


Subhuman

by grafitti



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: 2003 and Brotherhood mash up, Gen, Motherhood, Nihilism, Self-Worth Issues, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-27
Updated: 2017-05-27
Packaged: 2018-11-05 08:45:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11009976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grafitti/pseuds/grafitti
Summary: Edward and Alphonse succeeded in recreating their mother's body. But that's all. In the end, it is truly impossible to bring the dead back to life, but that doesn't mean a person cannot be made. Wether it's by the Elric's hand or not.(2003 and Brotherhood mash-up. Ed and Sloth centric.)AU where the Elric brother succeeded in bringing Trisha back to life... Sort of.





	Subhuman

It worked, in a way. Trisha Elric was alive, and here, at home.  
  
Ed carried a tray of food in his small hands, the porcelain plates and clay teapot rattling as his small arms tried to hold the heavy tray up. Before his sweaty fingers could drop the tray, Alphonse rushed in, using his two hands to help his older brother hold up their mother's meal.  
  
“Careful, Brother...” said Al. “It took me a while to get the eggs right. Can't smell and all.”  
  
“Yeah, I will. Thanks for helping, Al.” The boys maneuvered the tray over to their mother, who sat upright in her bed, staring off into space. Her green eyes were vacant, faded and unfocused. Her body functioned just like anyone else's. It breathed, it ate, it slept. She could walk, and pick things up on their own, but it didn't seem like there was anything driving her actions. “Hey Mom, we made breakfast for you... Do you like it?” Trisha did not reply, her eyes slowly trailing to the tray they placed in her lap, but without even a spark of acknowledgment.  
  
Ed's small smile fell into a smaller one, painful and sad. What did he expect? She had been this way since they brought her back, quiet and dead. Less than human.

.

.

It was a secret that was impossible to keep. Ed smacked himself in the forehead, mourning his stupidity. He and Al hadn't thought of how to explain their mother's sudden reappearance – they had gotten so caught up with the idea of having their mother again that it never occurred to them that anyone would react with anything but happiness and relief.  
  
It wasn't long until someone realized that Edward's left leg was automail, and that Alphonse didn't seem to feel much of anything anymore. No taste. No touch or smell. After the transmutation, it was a miracle that Alphonse could even see or hear.  
  
The military became involved, and their mother was torn from them once again, with her children left in tears. Another secret of their had come out – that the boys could transmute without circles. As soon as the blue coats burst through the front door, Ed had brought his palms together to suctions their middles into the walls, stuck like flies in a spider's web. But there was only so much wall to go around, and it wasn't long until he was subdued using the same holds that were used on killers and muggers.  
  
“Don't take her away! Please!” Ed cried, reaching out for the familiar woman that the blue coats roughly led to a government car. His head was shoved down by the officer restraining him, his chin digging harshly into the polished wood floor below him. “We've just got her back! Please don't do this! Not after all this!”  
  
“Mom! Mom's supposed to stay here with us!” Alphonse cried too, swinging his legs, trying to escape from an officer's hold – it would be painful for any other child, but an inability to feel pain, warmth, or touch often left Alphonse unaware of developing bruises or a crushing grip. Alphonse clapped his hands and pressed them to the floor, sending a wooden fist into the side of the officer holding him. “I want my mom back!” More uniforms swarmed him, slamming him down to the floor like they had done to Ed before him. They may only be grade schoolers, but that didn't seem to stop the military.  
  
Soon, they were locked into a car as well, and their childhood home was left behind them.  
  
.  
.  
  
Unless it was state-sanctioned medical alchemy, human transmutation was a forbidden act punishable by death. No exceptions. Not for an old man, and not for a school child.

After they were separated and questioned (these sessions were conducted with varying degrees of success for the brothers), they were brought together again. Ed hugged his baby brother close, and Al did the same. Both their grips were almost painful on each other, crushing the other so close they could almost meld. Who knew how soon they were going to be torn apart again? What if this was the last time they could see each other?

They were brought before a military tribunal. The Fuhrer, the Brass, and the High Alchemic Authority sat the bench. On each side of the opulent courtroom were the witnesses (and it did not escape Ed's notice that not a single person from Resembool was summoned as a witness): the authorities who gave their statements on the arrest they made, their shoddy state-appointed lawyer, the alchemists who analyzed the circle they drew, and the doctors who confirmed that, down to every measurable identifier they could think of, Trisha Elric was indeed, Trisha Elric. The bones in Ed's little body shook – she was indeed their mother. From the fingerprints to the dental work, she matched her mother – no, she _was_ their mother exactly.  
  
But what now? She would be carted off to a lab for researchers to experiment on – to poke and prod at her, to try and see how the Elric brothers accomplished what they did.  
  
The appointed speaker held a wax-sealed folder above his head for the courtroom to see, and then took out a letter opener to break the red seal, and began to read.  
  
“Today, on March third, year nineteen-ten, in criminal case F-zero-six-one-two-two-zero-one-zero, judgment has been passed upon these two criminals. By the law of Amestris, and by the word of our lawful judiciary –” Judiciary his ass. There wasn't a single neutral party sitting up on that bench. “Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric have thus been found guilty of intent to perform forbidden alchemy, obscene acts against nature, and the post-mortem violation of one Trisha Elric's autonomy. The punishment and sentence that those sitting on the honorable tribunal bench has decided to bestow upon Edward Elric and Alphonse Elric for these crimes, is death by firing squad.”  
  
His teeth hurt from how hard he was grinding them – he was angry, but he wasn't sure what to be angry at. Himself? The military? God? Everything? Nothing? It was all he could do from shouting and swearing himself into a quicker death. Alphonse whimpered beside him, scared, but it seemed that he was just as confused and angry as Edward himself. In the end, who did have to blame but themselves?  
  
Fuhrer Bradley rose, and so did the rest of the room, her chairs scraping low sounds across the expensive floor, and a loud stomp and click as they latched her heels and threw up a hand in a uniform salute. The weather-beaten but imposing man stepped up to the microphone, his eye patch casting a dark and ominous shadow across his friendly face.  
  
“By the power invested in me by the citizens and nation of Amestris, I, Fuhrer King Bradley, decree that this trial was officiated, conducted, and concluded fairly and justly, and that the sentence decided upon by the judiciary be carried out forthwith.”  
  
The brothers were taken into the cold hands of the military police once more, their cuffs jingling as they were none too gently escorted out of the courtroom.  
  
.  
.

They were not executed as they had expected. In fact, they were not executed at all.  
  
The people of Amestris would be cowed if it were to be revealed that there was a vast facility beneath the heart of Central City. A cold and industrial secret sprawled underground, culminating in a largely empty and incredibly large room with vats of molten metal hanging to the side, and an island of tubes and wires attached to a dark and imposing throne and lab desk in the middle. In the throne sat a man they had thought they would never see again – one whom Edward wished he did not see again.

“You bastard!” He shouted, struggling against the strong officer that had brought them down here. “You were here all this time?! Mom waited for you! She waited for years! And you never came!” Hohenheim rose from his throne, his long hair paler than Ed remembered, the blonde locks cascading down the back of his white robes. “You didn't even come back for her funeral!”  
  
“Quiet down, pipsqueak!” The officer growled, yanking both the boys backward and into a choking grip, even though Alphonse didn't say anything.  
  
“Envy, that is enough.” Hohenheim waved a hand, motioning for the officer to let the boys go. And he did, stepping back from the boys. Glancing behind himself, Ed caught sight of something incredible, and horrifying. A ring of white light traveled from the officer's middle, peeling away the blue uniform in every direction it spread to reveal pale skin and a purpleish-black outfit in its stead.  
  
Alphonse screamed – it seemed that he had witnessed the same thing. The boys scrambled away from the lithe man with long dark hair, their bodies skidding on the stone floor as they panicked.  
  
“What the hell are you?!” Ed yelled, pushing himself backwards with his shackled hands.  
  
“Calm down, children,” said Hohenheim, calm and collected. “And what did you mean before? Do you mean to say that you're... Hohenheim's sons?”  
  
Wary, frightened, and far out of his depth, the two boys nodded, turning to each other a little more for a bit of comfort. The man placed his large hands on their heads, almost like any other adult faced with small children would, but the way he looked at them was curious, scientific even.  
  
“So he had children? Amazing! I never thought he would actually settle down...” So this man wasn't Hohenheim – were the two brothers? Was this an Uncle they'd never known? “But why is your last name Elric? Ah – it sounds familiar. That was the name of the human that you two created, wasn't it?”  
  
“It's our mom's...” Al mumbled. Not just any human's. Their mother's name.  
  
“Can someone explain to me what exactly is going on here?” Ed demanded, trying to sound as commanding as possible.  
  
“He's our Father,” said Envy from behind. “He created us.”  
  
“Us?” questioned Alphonse. The man Envy called 'Father' touched a hand to Al's cuffs, disintegrating them without so much as a twitch. The glow of the lightning arcs shined brightly, causing Ed to gasp. Alchemy? With only one hand? He knew that people could clap, because Teacher could, but one hand? How was that possible? Soon enough, Father did the same to Ed's cuffs, and he wrung his wrists to rub away the raw feeling on his skin. The man chuckled, standing back up to his full height, which towered over the two boys.  
  
“Let me tell you about Xerxes, and your father, Hohenheim... After all, you two are very important sacrifices, you know.”  
  
.  
.  
  
It was a failure. After so many months of study, after innumerable days with their soulless mother, Edward finally admitted to himself that the entire thing was a farce. A failure. It was impossible to bring the dead back to life. Trisha Elric was dead and gone, existing somewhere past the Gate, where his alchemy could never reach.  
  
“What are you doing, Alphonse? You know it's not her,” Ed gruffly said to his brother one day, a few years after Father had taken them in; although, it wasn't as if they could have refused. As it was, they were little more than kept pets, like the chimera guardians of the sewer pass. “That thing can't feel love.”  
  
“She's not an 'it,' brother, she's _mom_.” Alphonse nuzzled his face closer into the woman's side, his arms wrapped around her like she could disappear in a single moment. He held her tight, trying to sense a warmth that he could not feel. His skin was far paler than it used to be; the inevitable result from wearing his protective suit of leather and metal plates.

Father had insisted the boy cover up his body if he couldn't tell when he was injured, so from head to toe, Alphonse was usually garbed in thick cotton and tough leather, topped with iron guards. Most of the time, Edward only saw the boys eyes, as his lower face was covered with a mask as dark as the rest of his clothing, or the golden orbs peeked through the oblong slits of his helmet. It was only when he slept in the same bed as Edward, or when he embraced Sloth that his pale skin was shown to the underground lights once more.  
  
“I'm sorry to hear you say that, honey.” Her eyes weren't green anymore. The soulless, spherical casings of different membranes and aqueous humor were no longer human. The irises were an ominous purpleish red, the black pupils elongated like the hungry gaze of a snake. “Because I do love you very much.” Her smile was quaint, peaceful and measured, like an adult who calmly waited for an unruly child to settle down. But he could see it behind her eyes – the ire, the annoyance, the entitlement, the _impatience_.  
  
“You'll never be able to achieve a higher purpose by trying to be someone that you're not,” said Ed. “You have struggled for nothing. You have lost nothing. You have achieve nothing. You're just trying to swipe everything that Trisha Elric did for your own.”  
  
“I am your mother. That's my purpose, you little brat,” Sloth snarled at Ed, her voice angry, but still lilted in that sweet, motherly manner. A block gloved hand touched Ed's own, trying to lace their fingers together, but he smacked it away. “I will be greater than what Father created me for.”  
  
“How? You're not even trying. You're just taking a cheap shot towards being worth something.” “If you want to be worth something, Sloth, you should stop thinking that being a mom is the easy way out.” “And stop playing house with the homunculus, Al; it's not a human.”  
  
“You would do well to follow his advice, Sloth. Cease this foolishness, and stop pretending to be a human,” Father entered from the towering double doors, making his way to the side of the room to start preparing the molten metal in the hanging vats. Looked like he was going to do away with Greed soon enough. Ed grimaced, watching the otherworldly being move from vat to vat, heating each with a touch before stoking the fires to keep them hot. He didn't want to be compared to the bearded bastard – much less have the bastard himself find him to be agreeable. “You were created to serve my purposes. Nothing more, and nothing less.”  
  
Sloth bowed deeply – nervous and uncomfortable, judging by how her form fidgeted behind her curtain of limp brown hair.  
  
“Absolutely pathetic,” Ed muttered. Sloth scowled at the floor, unwilling to lift her head in defiance. “You want to find meaning, but you can't even start because you won't disobey...” But who was he to criticize this pitiful mistake of nature? He and his brother had stayed, even after several escape attempts, they had soon accepted their place in Father's underground scheme.  
  
What was left for him in the outside world?  
  
.  
.  
  
“Do you like it here?” Ed asked one night while the two of them were in bed. It was a rare moment where his brother wore normal clothes – a pajama shirt and long pants. He held his brother close in the cold air. Alphonse may not feel cold, but Ed wasn't about to let that sort of thing affect his baby brother.  
  
“What?” asked Alphonse.  
  
“Do you like it here?” Ed repeated, pulling himself back so he could give a serious look to his brother, even though he couldn't see him in the pitch black darkness of their bedroom.  
  
“Um... Well, you're here. And... Mom's here. And we're safe,” the younger blonde said hesitantly. “So I guess I like it here.” Ed bit the inside of his lip. He asked, and yet wasn't sure what to think about his answer.  
  
“Are you happy here?” Alphonse furrowed his brows at the question, biting the inside of his lips the same way that Edward did. He guessed it was a family thing.  
  
“I don't think so.” Ed nodded in silence and pulled his brother close. He tugged the thick blanket over the both of them as a shield against the chill of the underground bunker.  
  
.  
.  
  
She had abandoned her initial approach to purpose.  
  
“Don't touch me,” she said calmly, snatching her fingers from Alphonse's gauntlet-clad hand. “I'm not your mother.” The boy looked sad, yes, but he seemed to accept it. As much as Alphonse liked to pretend that Sloth was their mother, on the inside he always knew that she wasn't. That the end of their farce was inevitable.  
  
But Ed still felt guilty, if only for the loss of his brother's only outlet for affection besides himself. He wasn't sure why Sloth had changed her design to find herself, but he couldn't help but feel that it was his fault since he spouted off to her a month ago.  
  
“I exist for Father,” she would say whenever Ed questioned her. He knew that she still didn't like that bearded bastard, much like Greed did before he was dissolved. But she acted the part of an ever-loyal pawn, subservient and dedicated to a fault. Then it clicked.  
  
“Do you think he'll be able to give it to you?” Ed asked the homunculus one day in passing. She turned to him, her expression impassive and intimidating.  
  
“He has already given me a purpose and meaning.” And she turned away once more, continuing on her journey outside the compound. She was making good headway on the tunnels where the last Sloth had faltered, which is why she was able to spend so much time around Alphonse when Father placed the stone in her bloodstream. Quietly, she spoke once more. “Don't screw it up.”  
  
_Because Father had given him a purpose and meaning too._  
  
Ed clenched his fist, not bothering to fight the black look that carved it's way across his features. He dipped his head forward, trying to hide his shame in his golden locks, despite there being nobody to hide it from.  
  
.  
.  
  
“Envy and Lust say that homunculi are humans. And as far as biology goes, they're correct,” he mused one day, swinging his bare feet as if Sloth wasn't sitting on the same stone slab that he was.  
  
“They believe so. And maybe they are,” she said simply, gazing out into the darkness of the sewage tunnel. The inky blackness shifted in curling shapes, the scratch of a chimera's claw across the wall or floor the only indication that they were there. His feet stilled and he turned to speak to her, his eyes meeting only the side of her face.

“Why not you?” he asked. Why was she the only homunculus who didn't consider themselves human? Well – up to a certain extent. The others certainly did call themselves human – they called themselves people. But they weren't about to act like they existed on the same level as mortals. But the way Sloth spoke... He had known for years that she considered herself below them. But back then, it didn't matter why.  
  
“You know why,” said Sloth.  
  
“Al says you're just as human as anyone else,” he said. “He said that you're a person too.”  
  
“Don't tell me you buy that drivel,” she rolled her eyes, her nose crinkled in a disgusted sneer. “For Envy and Lust, serving Father is enough. As long as they breathe, bleed, and kill, it's all they need to convince themselves that they're people. Alphonse believes very much in that 'I think, therefore I am' garbage that that Aerugean philosopher wrote. But you and I know better. A person has a purpose. A meaning. And that's something that I...” She pulled off her glove, staring at the lines etched into her pale palm. “My purpose is to serve Father. I have a purpose, a meaning. He gave them to me. But why do I feel so unfulfilled? He gave a purpose and meaning to you too, and _you're_ a person. But what about me?”  
  
“Careful, or he'll hear you,” he said plainly, swinging his feet once more.  
  
He was such a fucking hypocrite.  
  
.  
.  
  
Edward Elric had found his purpose. And it was so simple. Who said that you needed a goal? And if you did have one, like he did, what happened once you achieve it? Did you all of a sudden lose your personhood? Did you become subhuman once more?  
  
But what did all that matter?  
  
The wet floor of the sewer chilled the bottom of his right foot, his skin puckering and coloring from the mysterious things that mixed and swirled in each water droplet. His automail rang each time he slapped it on the ground, shouting 'I'm here' into the void of the echoed passage. The body upon his shoulder bounced with each step, the girl screaming for him to release her so she could die for her liege. Alphonse was behind him, erecting walls to block their pursuers, and spikes to stab at the chimera on their tail.  
  
“You idiot! You're not gonna do that Ling guy any good if you get yourself killed!”  
  
“The young lord needs me!” Lanfan, if he remembered her name correctly, screamed at him. She screamed again, but this time her only hand clutched at her bandaged shoulder. “I live to keep him safe!” Ed groaned, letting out an exasperated cry as he pumped his legs even faster.  
  
“We'll figure it out later, damn it! He'll be fine – Greed's immortal, you know!” He could hear the whimper and cry as Alphonse hurled a chimera into another, his body's immeasurable strength doing all the work.  
  
“Why are you helping me?” Lanfan snarled at him. “Aren't you in league with those monsters?”  
  
“No! I mean – technically – ugh! Whatever! I'm helping you aren't I?! So stop complaining!” Ed hoisted the Eastern warrior higher on his shoulder. “I've got someone to live for too! I need to help him, and I can't do that here!”

Behind him, Alphonse tried hard not to smile behind his leather mask, forgetting that nobody could see it.  
  
.  
.  
  
Alphonse had found his purpose too. And it was such a simple thing.  
  
“I want to eat Gracia's apple pie.”  
  
“You're eating it right now, aren't you?” said Hughes, a little confused, pointing his fork at the slice of crispy pie on the boy's plate.  
  
“Yes, but... I can't taste it,” the boy explained, looking down at the leather gauntlets that covered his fingers. “In fact, I can't feel anything. Sometimes, I don't even feel real. What if I'm just watching the world through someone else's eyes?”  
  
“You're _not_ ,” said Ed around a mouthful of soft apples, sounding desperate. “You're here, and you're real. Don't ever doubt that!”  
  
“Thank you, Brother.” He still sounded dejected, but a little flame burned in his eyes. “I just want to be me. I just want to feel like I'm alive.”  
  
.  
.  
  
He may be a giant bastard, but Ed had a lot of respect for him. Colonel Roy Mustang had himself all figured out. He knew what he wanted and he struggled for it. He pursued it without doubt. He was defined, confident, and purposeful. So it was more than surprising when Ed found the Colonel wrapped around a handle of scotch.  
  
“The truth is, you never actually know if you're on the right path, or if what you do has any real meaning,” he told the boy. “Whatever you do, regardless of how well-meaning your actions were, you'll always wonder about how many people you hurt by doing that. Even if you do something that's good for everybody, you'll always wonder how long it'll last. When will all your efforts be undone? How will the tower you built fall?”  
  
“But you continue regardless.” Mustang poured himself two fingers, and downed it in one go before pouring another. “You struggle and cry and bleed and suffer for it, not knowing if any of it will pay off or if all the sweat and tears you put into it were wasted.”  
  
“And after doing all that, after spending most of your life working towards your goal, and making every decision in favor of the future you envision... What's left of you if you fail? What happens to you if everything you believed in, everything you lived for and hoped for becomes meaningless? What if everything you've done only took you farther and farther from what you wanted?”  
  
Ed snorted, rolling his eyes when the man had the gall to look offended.  
  
“Nihilism isn't a good look on you, Mustang.” Ed's voice was surprisingly gentle, if a little chiding. He pulled the decanter out of the man's weak grip, setting it on a side table that lived between two tall, wooden bookcases. “The public likes a handsome Fuhrer, so you should really stop thinking like that. It's bad for your complexion.”  
  
Mustang sighed, acquiescing to the boy's nudging.  
  
“Thank you, Ed.”  
.  
.  
  
“Sloth, bring him here.” Father extended his pale hand, calling her forward. Ed's eyes were wide - stretched open in fear, anticipation, adrenaline... Everything. He struggled as the water whip that curled around his body tightened and dragged him closer to the homunculus that wore his mother's face.  
  
“I...” She trailed off, her frown trembling as her resolve wavered. “But he's...”  
  
“Why do you hesitate? You couldn't have developed a sense motherhood for them while they were gone,” Father furrowed his brows and crossed his arms, annoyed at his creation's slowness. “Haven't I told you to stop acting like a _human_?”  
  
“Sloth, you don't have to listen to him,” Ed spoke to her. He managed to get a hand free and grasped her arm with it, but he still wriggled in her grip. “Listen – it took me so long to figure it out, and I'm so damn stupid for not realizing something so simple until later. I wasn't able to tell you last time – but I'll tell you now.” Her eyes widened, and she looked at him, far too enraptured by his words to heed Father's command.

“I gave you life. I gave you meaning when you were worthless. I gave you a purpose when you had no direction. This is what you were _made_ for, Sloth!” Father roared, and the woman flinched, her watery fist tightening in a knee-jerk reaction. Ed groaned, but eked out his next painful word.  
  
“Who gives a damn about some sort of deeper meaning? Fuck, it sure as hell helps when we have a goal to work towards, some sort of desire that we would go through hardship for,” he choked out, each word pained and labored.

“You will not dare to listen to him, Sloth! I made you, and I can unmake you!”

“We are what we make ourselves, Sloth! Our purpose is to live, and to struggle. To want, to breathe, to love and _choose_. You have meaning, and you have a purpose in this world because you exist! You don't need anything else! You don't have to jump through hoops just to be a person when you alreeady are!” Ed screamed, yelling at the top of his lungs to drown out the megalomaniac only twenty feet away. His fiery eyes locked with her own purple-red ones. Her pupils were blown out – so different from that snake-life gaze that made him shiver a few years ago. “All you have to do is live!”  
  
“ _Bring him to me!_ ”  
  
“I refuse.” She turned to Father now, releasing the blonde boy as she turned her back without a care.  
  
“You insolent wretch! This will be the last time you disobey me! Bring him –“  
  
“Did I stutter, Father? I said, _I refuse_.” Her voice was steel, strong and unyielding. “I won't be your thing any longer. I'm a person. I'm _human_. You should find someone else to finish your circle.” She glanced back at Ed, and perhaps he wasn't supposed to see it. He couldn't be sure, but he thought that, for a second, a small smile graced the face of the woman who looked so very much like his mother.  
  
.  
.  
  
He saw her, and in a flower shop, of all places.  
  
“Welcome to Floras Douglas, how can I help you?” Her voice was sweet, but deeper and breathier than that fake motherly lilt she used to put to her words. It was muffled through the glass window of the storefront, but it traveled cleanly through the open door propped by a wooden wedge.  
  
“Ah, I'm here to pick up an order under Puntswell. My sons' wedding is later today, but I plan on setting up early.” Mr. Puntswell rubbed the back of his head sheepishly.  
  
“I'm sure. I'll be right back with your arrangement, Mr. Puntswell.” She left for the back room with a teenager – an employee, judging by her embroidered apron. She came back with four stands of colorful flowers – he wasn't sure what kinds – placed into a tower design to be stood at the side of an event. They looked expensive, and Ed guessed that they were when he saw Mr. Puntswell tug at the side of his collar. Her sleeves were rolled up, and a bandanna held the escaped strands of hair back from her face. The rest of it was tied into a low, tight ponytail flush to the base of her skull – something that Trisha never did. His mother had never liked the pinchy feeling on her scalp, even if it was easier to keep her hair in place that way. “Thank you for your patronage.”  
  
Dark eyes met his own, and he entered the store after Mr. Puntswell carefully loaded the floral arrangements into his small truck.  
  
“It's been a while, Sloth,” said Ed.  
  
“It's Juliet now, Edward. Read the name tag.” She tapped the rectangular pin attached to the front of her yellow apron. He laughed.  
  
“Sorry – force of habit, I guess. It's nice to meet you, Ms. Douglas.”  
  
“It's good to meet you too.” And, out of nowhere, the both of them cracked into laughter. “Were you here to buy flowers?”  
  
“Ah... Yeah. They're coming in on the train today; I wanted to greet them,” he flushed, unable to fight off a dopey smile as he thought about how much of a surprise it would be if he showed up with a small bouquet. Not roses. That's stupid. (Yet a little tempting, if only to see the look on their face...)  
  
“You should come to Resembool sometime,” he suggested, flipping through the thin catalog she gave him for a nice arrangement. “Al's getting married soon in a private ceremony.”  
  
“I'm not your mother. And the past we share is... A bit complicated, isn't it?” She spoke while grabbing at the flowers necessary for the bouquet he had chosen, taking them over to the shears to cut the longer stems and remove any thorns. “All that is a bit much for me anyways. I would rather just spend my time here.” Slothful as ever, Ed supposed. He chuckled anyways, not offended by her turning down the invitation.  
  
“I'll send you a photo.” He grabbed a business card, nodding his head to it. She nodded, smirking at his antics and letting him do as he pleased. Juliet morphed her right hand into an amorphous, watery figure, and whirled the liquid around the cut stems to forcibly hydrate the flowers.  
  
“That's disturbing,” Ed paled at the sight. It was a strange sensation – watching the aquatic limb that tried to drown him several times be re-purposed into a florist's tool. “Blue wrapping, please.”  
  
“It's efficient. They last longer this way,” Juliet explained, wrapping the flowers with the bit of wrapping paper Ed has chosen. “I've gotten great reviews because of it. That'll be ten and four.” Ed pulled out a ten thousand cenz bill, and four one hundred cenz coins.  
  
“Fuckin' ripoff...” But he paid the requisite price anyways.  
  
“I'll have you know that my prices are the best in the city,” Juliet huffed, crossing her arms with an air of superiority. “Unless you go to Petra's Petalworks. In which case you can buy the most expensive compost in Central.” Even though he grumbled about it, he thanked her, and bid goodbye, promising to send her a photo of the family even if she didn't plan on replying.  
  
He didn't extend the invitation again – he understood. And it wasn't like her presence would be well-received by everybody. There was still the whole... Looking like Trisha thing. But it would have been neat.  
  
Before he walked too far from the store too see her, he turned and waved another goodbye.  
  
And Juliet waved back.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: F-06122010 corresponds to the day the manga ended, which was June 12, 2010. Haha, this was originally supposed to end the day that Ed and Al meet Father after the tribunal, where he's like “lol, Elric is the name of the human you tried to make, right? Haha” But I decided to continue because I wanted a definite ending. I hope you all liked it. ^^;;
> 
> I kept the person that Ed's meeting on the train platform and the person Al's marrying unknown on purpose. Feel free to imagine anyone you want in those roles.
> 
> The bouquet is 10400 cenz because I estimated 520 cenz to be equivalent to 1 dollar. So the bouquet is 20 dollars and Ed is a giant cheapskate.
> 
> I combined a bit of 2003 with Brotherhood, as you can see. In the 2003 anime, it's hard to see how Sloth is... Slothful. But I read this great analysis on her on The Boob Tube. It's called The Women of Fullmetal Alchemist: Sloth. It helped me and inspired me a lot by talking about how Sloth wants to be her own person by eschewing all memories of motherhood, but her escapist methods are what make her slothful. I liked it. I feel like it gave more depth to Lust and Sloth as characters and especially as foils, and I LOVE the 2003 anime so I enjoyed it very much. ^^
> 
> I changed it for this story so that instead of Sloth trying to escape a predestined identity/purpose by eschewing memories of motherhood, it's Sloth trying to escape being identityless/purposeless by trying to be a person who she isn't, because she wouldn't have those memories of motherhood had she existed in Brotherhood. I wanted to try and extend that feeling of meaninglessness to other characters with their various attempts to secure meaning somehow, but that was very hard to do.


End file.
